Mina Daniel, a Coptic Christian shot dead by the Egyptian army in Cairo,
symbolises the growing strains within a country desperate to complete its
transition to democracy.

His beard and long hair styled in imitation of his hero, Mina Daniel was that rare thing among Che Guevara-lookalikes – a would-be revolutionary who actually found a revolution to fight.

As a regular face in the anti-government protests that toppled President Hosni Mubarak in February, the 20-year-old student from Egypt's Coptic Christian minority was the stuff of Facebook folklore: firstly for his cheerful songs promoting Muslim-Christian unity, secondly for the bullets he took during stand-offs with the security forces; two plastic ones to the head and stomach, and a live one that scarred his leg.

Now, though, the youngster whose friends nicknamed him "Guevara" is emblazoned on T-shirts himself, a belated "martyr" to the cause fellow protesters hoped had been won beyond doubt eight months ago.

In an episode last Sunday reminiscent of the bloodiest days of the anti-Mubarak struggle, he was among a small crowd of Coptic demonstrators who were brutally attacked in Cairo as they demonstrated against the destruction of a church by Islamic radicals in southern Egypt.

What started as a peaceful protest march ended up with 25 dead, some run over by armoured vehicles driven by soldiers supposedly policing the event, others clashing with gangs of Muslim extremist thugs. Mr Daniel's luck against the bullets finally ran out, a shot from an unknown sniper wounding him fatally in the chest.

"Mina was a very kind, righteous person, and he dreamed of Egypt becoming like Europe, where the young people don't have to travel abroad to live their dreams," said his sister Mary, 41, who wore a black T-shirt with her brother's face on it as she spoke to The Sunday Telegraph at the family's home in a poor Cairo suburb on Friday.

"The demonstration was peaceful, but then we were suddenly attacked. First there were stones thrown, then armoured cars trying to run people over. As we ran away, thugs came at us with knives, shouting "You Copts, you infidels, this is an Islamic country."

That Christians should claim mistreatment by Muslims is nothing new in Egypt: the Coptic minority, who form roughly 10 per cent of Egypt's 80 million people, have long complained of discrimination in both jobs and politics. Of far more concern, however, was the sense that the army too was involved in the bloodshed too.

Lauded for refusing to fire on crowds during the original uprising, the army chiefs were hailed as peoples' champions' when they took over in as caretaker rulers from Mr Mubarak in February.

But now, both Christians and Muslims claim the chiefs are proving all too similar to the Mubarak regime – undemocratic by nature, intolerant of protest, and reluctant to meet their pledges to hand over to an elected civilian government.

"The military government is no longer the people's friend," said Ms Daniel, sitting in Mina's cramped, spartan bedroom, where a wall picture of Jesus and Mary looked down on a tattered Nelson Mandela biography. "Now they are creating civil war between Copts and Muslims, as an excuse to stay in power."

The Supreme Council of the Armed Forces, as the military government is known, denies deliberately opening fire, and in a rare news conference last week, insisted it acted with "restraint" as rival demonstrators clashed.

However, the carefully-edited videos it offered in its defence seemed less convincing than mobile phone footage gathered by the protesters. For many, even the most generous explanation is that troops inexperienced in public order techniques simply panicked.

Either way, disillusionment with the council has set in, to the point where its 76-year-old head, Field Marshal Mohamed Tantawi, has replaced Mr Mubarak as the pro-democracy movement's new bogeyman.

Graffitied cartoons in Cairo's Tahrir Square, the epicentre of the original protests, show his gaunt, stern-looking face with a "banned" stripe superimposed, while slogans say "no to military trials" – a reference to how the council itself has detained many demonstrators in the name of stability.

"They tried me as a thug, even though I was just a demonstrator," said pro-democracy campaigner Amr Eissa, who spent four months in jail after being arrested during a protest in March demanding Mr Mubarak face trial.

"They beat me for 12 hours, and photographed me in a room full of Molotov cocktails so it looked I like was a troublemaker. I was optimistic about the country's future, but I'm fast losing that feeling."

Mr Tantawi is also under fire over progress towards elections, the one thing that might confirm his good intentions and allow Egyptians to express their differences peacefully. The first polls for a lower-parliamentary house are due next month, but already there are complaints that many members of Mr Mubarak's banned National Democrat Party will slip in as independents.

More importantly, wrangling over the length of the time needed for parties to organise and the role of Islam in the constitution mean elections for the key position of president may not take place for another year.

Ten days ago, a coalition of presidential hopefuls, including the former foreign minister, Amr Moussa, and prominent liberal Mohamed Elbaradei, demanded the presidential polls be brought forward to no later than April.

Yet even if that is granted, there is no guarantee that elections will prove a panacea. For a multi-party contest will give a long-denied voice not only to Christians and liberals, but also to creeds of Islamists far more hard-line than the Muslim Brotherhood, the dominant Islamic party that is already tipped to gain 20 per cent of the parliamentary vote.

Recent months, for example, have seen the emergence of parties of the Salafist movement, whose long beards and nostalgia for the pious lifestyle of the Prophet's original followers disciples make them a Muslim answer to America's Amish.

Copts blame them for recent attacks on churches, and their zeal unnerves many fellow Muslims too, anxious at the rise of parties like Jamaat Islamiya, which was involved in the 1981 assassination of Mr Mubarak's predecessor, Anwar Sadat, over his peace deal with Israel. To the disapproval of Mr Sadat's surviving family, the group, which refuses to apologise for his killing, plans to field hundreds of candidates in the parliamentary elections and contest the presidential poll too.

True, in seeking a mandate from voters as well as God, even the Salafists have modernised a little. The president of the Reform and Renaissance party, Hesham Mustapha Abdelaziz, who holds degrees in both science and sharia law, wears a smart business suit and even rejects the term "Salafi" as a "misleading stereotype".

"We want a new social contract with all political powers, be they socialists, liberals or Islamists, and Copts should have equal rights too," he said. "Yes, we support women wearing the hijab (the Islamic headscarf), but we're not going to force anyone. Socially we are Islamists, but we are also a liberal democrat party."

Yet a Salafist liberal democrat is still no Nick Clegg, points out Ali Abdelwahab, a British-educated hospital doctor and secular Muslim, who views the rise of Islamist parties with concern. "They talk nicely, but that's the thin end of the wedge," he said, drinking a late-night Scotch in a Cairo bar.

"Scratch a Muslim Brotherhood member beneath the surface and you'll find plenty sympathy for how things work in Saudi Arabia. They now have a chance they've never had before in history, and a financial and organisational wherewithal that is streets ahead of their liberal competitors."

Wary of being seen to flex their political muscles too much, the Brotherhood have so far said they will not field a candidate in the presidential election, by are likely to form the largest party in first post-Mubarak Egytpian parliament after elections to it later this year.

That hands a strong chance to Mr Moussa, the former foreign minister, who is currently runaway favourite with poll ratings as high as 44 per cent. The veteran diplomat and ex-head of the Arab League is widely seen as a safe pair of hands in difficult times, although he too now fears Egypt risks going off the rails.

While he has refused to yet blame any particular side over the recent Copt deaths, he says he sees "angry Egyptians all over the place".

"If it was just one group it would be fine, but it is whole political scene," he told The Sunday Telegraph. "Confrontations allow thugs to thrive, and leaves everybody talking about Christians versus Muslims."

Then again, a Moussa presidency would scarcely be a healing process either, especially for the Facebook generation, which wants no Mubarak-era figures returning. Much as he jokes about their distrust of him – "The era of Egyptian presidents getting 99 per cent approval rates is over" – he could face fierce protests in Tahrir Square himself if elected.

In the meantime, the "shadow" of last Sunday's sectarian trouble may well lengthen – not least in the narrow, unpaved alleyways around Mr Daniel's old neighbourhood, a mixed Copt-Muslim area.

For while the local mosque made a special effort to foster unity last Friday – blasting out a special prayer of "God Save Egypt", rather than the usual "God Save Egypt's Muslims" – some Muslim neighbours feel Mr Daniel's legacy will be that of troublemaker, not martyr.

Watching as mourners visited his apartment block, one man muttered in a quiet but hostile tone. "What a mess we're in."